


for the benefit of someone

by solrosan



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Dresses, Eggsy Wears a Dress, F/M, Formalwear, Nobel Prize, Prince Eggsy Unwin, Tailoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:26:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27980736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solrosan/pseuds/solrosan
Summary: Eggsy wears a dress to this year's Nobel Prize celebrations, because he has a platform now and he will use it.
Relationships: Tilde/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin
Comments: 9
Kudos: 22





	for the benefit of someone

**Author's Note:**

> There is no Nobel Prize ceremony or banquet in Stockholm (or Oslo) this year, which makes me really sad because I truly need dresses and tiaras in the middle of December. So I'm keeping my (almost) annual tradition of posting a Nobel fic!

Eggsy sat at the kitchen table in his London home, looking at Tilde over the screen of his laptop. She was working, he wasn’t. He kept her company as she studied for her next state visit. 

“Who are you wearing to Nobel this year?” he asked. 

She gave him a curious look. “I don’t know. It’s June.”

Eggsy grinned. “Like you don’t know who you’ll ask.”

“I haven’t decided.”

“But you’re thinking Pär Engsheden, right?”

Tilde laughed. “What is this?”

“Are you denying it?”

“No,” said Tilde, still with the biggest smile. “But I haven’t talked to him, or anyone. Why?”

“I’m supposed to be a tailor, I should know these things.”

“Babe, are you asking to make my Nobel dress?”

“God, no. Men’s wear is hard enough. No, I… Don’t laugh, okay?”

“Promise.”

Eggsy turned his laptop around, showing a photo of Billy Porter at the 2019 Academy Awards wearing a black tuxedo gown.

Tilde frowned. “I don’t think that’s really my--”

“No, for me.”

Tilde met his eyes, her frown slowly leaving and a new smile lighting up her face. Eggsy mirrored it with a more self-conscious one.

“I’m thinking not as wide a skirt -- and white tie, obviously -- but as a… as a concept.”

“And you want Pär to make it.”

Eggsy nodded. He liked Pär Engsheden. He liked his designs, he liked his professionalism when he had worked on Tilde’s dresses in the past, he liked his craftsmanship and the fact that he never talked down to Eggsy regarding his skills (or still lack thereof) as a tailor.

Tilde looked between the screen and Eggsy, finally stopping at Eggsy.

“I won’t say that you shouldn’t do this--”

“But you don’t think I should.”

Tilde wet her lips, so very clearly choosing her words with care. “I just want you to be prepared for the massive amount of publicity this will bring. Good and bad. They talk about my dress for a week, this is going to be Sara Danius’ pink-orange dress big. But if you want to take that on, I’m behind you in every discussion you’ll need to have until December and in every situation that may come after that.”

Eggsy nodded. “I know.”

“Well, then,” said Tilde, nodding. “Go and call Pär. Can’t very well take him from you now.”

Eggsy smiled, turning his laptop back again. He wasn’t going to call Pär Engsheden tonight. He wasn’t sure yet. This had been a first test and it had turned out pretty good.

* * *

Two days after Eggsy had told Tilde about his plans for the Nobel festivities Tilde was leaving for her state visit. She had been in London for a week, but it felt like five hours. At most. They spent the morning in bed, both desperately wanting the time to stop so that Tilde wouldn’t have to get up.

“About your Nobel plans…” Tilde started after they had been lying quietly, just existing, for a while. She had twined her fingers in his and was looking at their joint hands rather than at him. “Is there… Is _that_ something that you… want to do at other times too?”

“What? Steal your favourite designer?” asked Eggsy with a short laugh, knowing perfectly well that he misunderstood her on purpose. 

Tilde sighed. “No, I--”

“I know, I’m being an arse.” He pulled their hands to his mouth and kissed hers. “But no, I don’t want to wear women’s clothes.”

“You're not just saying that?”

Eggsy smiled. “Babe, the first we met you asked me to fuck you in the arse. If I wanted to wear dresses around the palace, I’d have told you by now.”

“Can I ask why, then?”

“Because there are boys who do,” said Eggsy as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And as he heard himself say it, he also knew that he had made the decision to take on the world for this. “And where else to do it to show that it’s perfectly fine than at one of the grandest dinners in the world? And who else to do it other than me?”

She traced his chin with her free hand, smiling tenderly at him. “Damn, you’re good at this.”

“I’ve had a good teacher.”

* * *

Tilde was true to her word and stood by him in every discussion regarding the dress. Unsurprisingly, the press office was the hardest to convince -- which in some ways was ridiculous since they worked for them and didn’t actually have a say. 

They had one valid point though according to Eggsy: the Nobel prize wasn’t about them and this would take attention from the laureates. 

“It’s not a problem,” said Tilde when Eggsy’s confidence in his plan wavered. “They spend at least 30 minutes talking about flower arrangements. They can prioritise. But if you want to, we can talk to SVT beforehand.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course, and who knows, maybe the Swedish Academy decides to give Trump the Literature Prize because of some particularly good tweet and then no one will care what anyone wears.”

Eggsy giggled. “You’re sure it won’t steal the spotlight too much?”

“Not from the laureates, but I’m fairly sure yours is going to be the most talked about dress…”

“And you’re fine with that?” he said, smirking. 

“It’ll be nice with a break, honestly.”

Even though she smiled when she said it, something in the way she did made Eggsy uneasy. He didn’t ask any questions, but now he felt like he had one more good reason to do this.

* * *

“I haven’t made a dress for a man since I graduated,” Pär admitted at their first consultation. He sounded slightly concerned about this, but hadn’t hesitated for a moment when Eggsy had called. “So I don’t have a lot to show you in terms of fit or concept or… anything really. So how about we just talk and see where it gets us?”

Eggsy nodded. “Sounds good.”

They sat in the official sitting room in Haga Palace where Tilde and Eggsy entertained official guests. Usually, Tilde went to the designer’s studio when she had her dresses made, but in this case they had decided it was better if everything happened here so that nothing came out before it was supposed to.

“Have you decided on what you’re wearing, your highness?” Pär asked Tilde, who sat next to Eggsy on the cream coloured sofa. Eggsy felt a wave of gratitude towards Pär that he didn’t change to Swedish when he addressed Tilde and felt even more secure in his choice of designer.

“No, but I’m thinking of reusing perhaps the grey Fadi el Khoury or the beige Elie Saab.”

“The appanage only covers one dress per Nobel?”

Tilde laughed. “No, but it seems unfair to whoever dresses me next to Gary this year, and I do have dresses in abundance.”

“So you’ll be matching us?” Pär pointed between himself and Eggsy. When Tilde confirmed, Pär looked at Eggsy with an excited smile. “Sounds like we can do whatever we feel like, then. Tell me what you want to say with this dress.”

Eggsy gave Tilde a quick glance before turning his attention to Pär. He felt excited as well. And nervous. Also, he realised, he felt safe. He took a breath and started to talk about his vision.

* * *

Pär came back after about two weeks with design sketches and ideas he wanted to discuss. He seemed as excited and nervous about this as Eggsy when he opened the portfolio on Eggsy and Tilde’s kitchen table, while Eggsy prepared tea for them. 

“How did you do this when you worked with clients?” asked Pär as Eggsy filled the pot with water -- if he was going to serve tea, he would do it proper! He had a reputation to uphold in this savage country. 

“Which part?” Eggsy asked, stalling for time.

“Design consultations.”

“Not much design going into a jacket,” said Eggsy, half-embarrassed.

“We both know that’s a lie.”

Eggsy put the teapot and the cups down next to the portfolio and sat down on the chair next to Pär.

“Fine,” he admitted, “but it ain’t like this. It’s mostly pretty standard, and the customers know what they want eight times out of ten. It’s just about talking it through with them. Fabric, though, that’s where you can have fun. And buttons. I can talk your ear off about buttons.”

“Please do.”

Eggsy chuckled. He could easily trick people outside the industry that he was a tailor and he was a little curious about how well he’d hold up in a discussion with a real professional, but that would have to wait for another time.

“I have a meeting at four, so we better not push our luck,” he said, starting to pour the tea. “Do you take milk?”

“No it’s fine, and another time, then.”

“Definitely. Now, show me!”

Pär opened the portfolio and pushed it towards Eggsy so that they had it between them. Something clenched Eggsy’s stomach when he saw the dress and he couldn’t help reaching out and touching the paper. As soon as he had, he felt incredibly stupid. He pretended not to, though, and smiled when he looked up at Pär.

“Getting nervous for real, now,” he said. 

“It’s only a sketch.”

“Yeah, but…” Eggsy looked at it again. “It’s my dress.”

“It’s actually a two-piece,” said Pär. “Or a… four-piece. I know you said you wanted a dress, but I thought that if it’s white tie with a skirt you’re going for, a skirt would probably be better. I can make it a one-piece, with the waistcoat and the tails over but--”

“Nah, this is perfect,” Eggsy cut him off, still studying the sketch. It was a very simple design. A high waisted, full-length black skirt, paired with a black dress coat with longer-than-normal tails, a white shirt, white waistcoat, and white bow-tie. Pär had taken the time to put in the light blue sash of the Order of the Seraphim, and the badge and star of the order. 

“Is it a poqué waistcoat?”

“Yes,” said Pär, nodding. “I’m thinking very traditional fabric choices, except maybe velvet lapels, because I know you’re fond of those.”

Eggsy gave him a huge grin. “You’ve noticed that, have you?”

“I don’t think that’s passed anyone by, your highness.” Pär pointed at the waistcoat. “I’ve also put in a single breasted waistcoat, because I know that’s what you usually wear to your dress coat, but I want to try a double breasted, if you’re okay with that.”

“Hm.” Eggsy frowned. “Why?”

“Because the majority of the suits you wear are double breasted and I think that would be a nice nod to that.”

“You’ve done your homework.”

Pär laughed. “You think I’d make the first dress for a prince in Swedish history and _not_ do my homework?”

Eggsy didn’t know what to say to that, so instead he smiled and served more tea. 

“Speaking of double versus single, though,” said Pär. “I actually think it’s time to talk buttons now, your highness.”

Now it was Eggsy’s turn out laugh, but he didn’t protest. When they ended the meeting about thirty minutes later, Eggsy was fairly sure that he had actually managed to get one of Sweden’s most renowned designers to believe that he had actually worked in the industry.

* * *

Eggsy stepped out of the bedroom, wearing a t-shirt with the text “boys will be feminists” and a black skirt that went all the way down to the floor. He felt completely awkward and it didn’t help that Tilde stood there, smiling, with her head slightly tilted, and watched him step on the hem of the skirt as he walked towards her.

She gave him a kiss when he reached her. “Now you see why we need to practice a little?”

“Yes,” Eggsy muttered. He might have been a little bit condescending when she had suggested that they should practice going up and down a few stairs in a full-long dress. Pär had gladly supplied them with a skirt similar to the one that would go with the dress suit later. (“You can’t call it a ‘dress suit’,” Eggsy complained. “That’s the _normal_ one, with _trousers._ ”)

Tilde wore one of her old Nobel dresses -- the one from Eggsy’s first Nobel banquet -- and high heels. It looked very odd seeing her so formal, yet entirely without makeup.

“What shoes are you going to wear?” asked Tilde.

“Oxfords.”

Tilde giggled. “I’m sorry I asked.”

“I ain’t wearing no heels.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that, I was just going to get them for you.”

“I can wear shoes inside?”

Tilde rolled her eyes and gave him a peck on the cheek. Eggsy never missed an opportunity to poke fun at his new country’s custom to walk around in socks.

“Sit down,” she said, pointing at one of the chairs in the hallway. (Who had chairs in the hallway? Eggsy, apparently.) She got down on her knees in front of him and started to lift his skirt.

Eggsy made a scandalous noise. 

“Grow up, Cinderella,” said Tilde and looked up at him as she placed his foot in her lap to put on his shoes. “Though, if you’re good today, that might be your reward…”

Eggsy grinned. When Tilde was done, she helped him on his feet -- which he felt was completely unnecessary after seeing her getting off the bloody floor in dress and heels, but he humoured her.

“So now, I have no idea how to walk in a dress on an even floor,” Tilde said. “I just… do it? I’ve tried for the longest time to figure out how I do it, but I can’t, so you just need to get some time in I think.”

“You mean just walking around?”

“Yes, just walking around. You’ll get used to it. How to move so that the fabric moves as it should. And then when it doesn’t work...” She reached down to right over her knee and took hold of the fabric of her skirt, then she stood up straight again, having revealed almost nothing of her leg. “And keep on walking.”

“Isn’t that the stair thing?”

“If you need it on the stairs, you might need both hands, and to hinge it up a bit higher, but yes, it’s the stair thing.”

“Up and down?”

“Up and down, but the stairs at Stadshuset are designed so that you don’t have to on the way down.”

“What?”

“Isn’t it the best?”

Eggsy’s not sure if that’s what he’d call it, but it was definitely interesting. 

They had reached their own stairs, which were by no means made for walking in dresses. Eggsy looked down it, not really worried, yet suddenly realising that more stairs should really take dresses into consideration. Especially those designed before women wore trousers. 

“Se så!” said Tilde, lifting up her own skirt a little. “Let’s do this.”

Eggsy nodded with determination. “Let’s do this.”

* * *

Tilde removed her hands from his eyes, but Eggsy kept them closed. She’d told him not to peek enough times for him to dare open them before he was allowed. They were at Drottningholm Palace under the pretence of visiting Tilde’s parents, but Eggsy was fairly certain that this surprise was the real reason they had gone. 

“Open your eyes.”

Eggsy obeyed and his eyes went straight to the open box on the table in front of him in the drawing room. There, on blue velvet, sat a tiara. He frowned and looked at Tilde for an explanation. 

“Do you want to wear it with your dress?” she asked, her eyes sparkling almost as much as the tiara. 

“I’m not cosplaying a princess.”

A bit of Tilde’s excitement disappeared. “I know. Do you want to wear the diadem with your dress?”

Eggsy looked back at the tiara… or diadem. Whatever. It had no gemstones, it was made of polished metal studs in a lattice design and when he looked more closely at it, he was fairly sure it was the cut steel bandeau. Tilde had worn it once as far as he knew, his mother-in-law a few times as well. 

“Can I try it?”

Tilde nodded. They both reached for it and Eggsy let her take it. She held it with both hands, gently putting it on his head, making sure it was somewhat properly fastened. When she took a step back, the excitement was back in her eyes. Eggsy’s hands went up to touch it. 

“How does it feel?” Tilde asked.

“Light. I thought it’d be heavier.”

“It’s because there are no stones in it.”

“How do I look?”

Tilde took him by the hand and dragged him over to the mirror over the fireplace so he could see for himself. “Amazing,” she said. 

Eggsy stared at his own reflection, turning his head back and forth to see the light reflected in the diadem. It felt really weird seeing himself with a diadem -- a real one, not Daisy’s plastic ones -- and even weirder that it didn’t look completely off. Didn’t look completely right either, but… 

Eggsy carefully lifted the cut steel bandeau from his head and held it up in front of him. It was an exquisite work of art, but it wasn’t made for a man. His dress would be. It would be made for him. Somewhere in that was a distinct difference and he wondered how important that difference was. Personally, wearing women’s jewellery didn’t bother him -- especially not something as beautiful as this -- but what would everyone looking at him think about it? How would wearing this change what he wanted to say?

“When do I have to decide?” he asked, handing it back to Tilde.

“December 10th, but preferably a day or two earlier.”

“When the dress is done, I’ll try it on and see how it feels.”

Tilde gave him a light peck on the cheek before walking back to put the diadem in its box. Eggsy met his eyes in the mirror again and breathed out slowly. Suddenly, he felt really nervous.

* * *

Eggsy was getting so incredibly tired of Tilde’s Skirt Camp. He stood in their dining room, hands on his hips, wearing the skirt Pär had lent him (this time with an orange hoodie), and glared at her. Tilde was standing two chairs away from him in her largest ensemble of red silk. The only good thing about that dress was that Eggsy found it unbelievably hot getting to take it off and that was his goal right now. 

“One more time,” said Tilde. “It’s still on you to pull out her chair.”

Eggsy snorted, but he hinged up his skirt and took two steps forward so that they stood next to each other. She took a tiny step back so that he could pull the chair out for her. She gathered all her fabric and sat down as he pushed the chair back in with more force than necessary.

“I felt that,” Tilde muttered. Eggsy ignored her.

He pulled out his own, sat down and moved the chair back in. He crossed his arms and slid down the chair in a very un-ladylike way. 

“You will thank me later when you won’t make a fool of yourself on international TV.”

“I know how to treat a lady at a table, I took that course years ago.”

“Fine.”

“I’m serious, skirts aren’t as hard as you think they are.”

“Fine.”

“So we’re done?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Tilde gathered up her skirt again and with some force pushed back so she could get up. “Careful when you get up, your skirt is stuck under the chair leg.”

With those parting words she left the room. Eggsy made a frustrated noise and scooted down a bit more. Damn it. When it was clear that Tilde actually wasn’t coming back he sighed and got up as well. 

He took a handful of skirt and lifted it up so that he would be able to walk faster. It wasn’t until he was halfway up the stairs before he realised that it had come completely natural to him to do that. A smile crept over his face, he was getting good at this.

* * *

Pär helped Eggsy with the dress coat, making sure the tails fell right over the back of the skirt and that the shoulders were straight. It was their first proper fitting, taking place in Pär’s studio. They had planned on doing all the fittings at Haga Palace, but when it came down to it, they’d realised that it was much more practical to smuggle Eggsy to the studio than for Pär to bring everything to Solna.

“So, what do you think?” asked Pär as he took a step back. 

Eggsy looked at himself in the mirror, pulling slightly at the cuff of his sleeve out of habit more than out of need. The coat was too large, they would have to take it in some, the skirt was wider than they had discussed (and wider than the one he had practised walking in), and they hadn’t bothered with a bib or a tie, but…

“Damn…” he breathed out. “This looks way less ridiculous than I have feared. I look good in this.”

Pär laughed. “I’ll never make you look ridiculous, your highness.”

“I really like the double breasted waistcoat,” said Eggsy, touching the golden buttons with his fingers. “I admit, I didn’t think I would.”

“I’m glad.”

“We might have to change the buttons to white, though.”

“Why?”

“Tilde’s offered me the cut steel bandeau, and I don’t know if I’ll wear it, but… just in case.”

“And in Swedish that’s…?”

Eggsy frowned, mentally forming the word before giving it a go, “Ståldiademet.”

“Wow.” Pär’s mouth hung open. “Yes. Do it.”

“You think?”

“Yes.”

Eggsy looked back at himself in the mirror. “I’m afraid it’ll come across as if I’m pretending to be a princess rather than being a prince in a dress.”

“Maybe next time, then?”

“Should have brought it with me to try it out.”

“What, in your Purple Rain tote?” Pär laughed, pointing at the tote bag Eggsy had brought his dress shirt and shoes in.

“It’s a Prince tote bag,” Eggsy muttered. “My mates gave it to me, they think they’re hilarious.” 

“I have to agree, your highness.” Pär walked in front of him and looked at the vest. “You know what, I’ll change the buttons so that they’ll match stålsettet. Then, if you decide to wear it, it’ll match and if you decide not to… well, then you’ll still look good.”

Eggsy smiled. “Thanks.”

“I will, however, forbid you to wear your Kingsman cufflinks, since they are gold.”

“I promise I’ll find something else.”

“Good. Then let’s get you out of this, and into your old rags, your highness.”

Eggsy looked at himself in the mirror as Pär started to help him out of the jacket. When did he become this comfortable with someone undressing him in a platonic sense?

* * *

December 10 was always a circus, from early morning until late night. This year was no different, except that it might be twice as chaotic in their rooms at Stockholm Palace. Tilde’s staff was there, Eggsy’s staff was there, two sets of designers, makeup artists and hairdressers, and even though they had a whole palace to spread out in, they somehow still ended up in each other’s way. 

Having all these people there might be overkill, though, seeing how Tilde wore an old dress and Eggsy had the same 30 minutes for hair and makeup combined as he always did since he had decided against the diadem, but there they all were. In their home. Making a mess. All under the guise of getting things ready for the prize award ceremony and the following banquet.

“Are you nervous?” asked Pär as he helped Eggsy into his dress. 

Eggsy nodded. “Haven’t felt like this since I was about to jump out of a plane not knowing if I had a parachute or not.”

“What?”

“Heh… it’s a saying from back home.”

“Ah, right.” Pär looked up from what he was doing. “You have a parachute, though, the Crown princess.”

“Well, I’m still jumping off a bleeding plane, ain’t I?”

Pär chuckled. “You curse a lot in English, you know that?”

Eggsy hummed, he knew that all too well. Most of the time he could control it, it came almost naturally when he tried to talk like Harry -- who also cursed like a sailor, but that wasn’t the point -- but when he was nervous or stressed, he always reverted back to his real accent. And that included a lot of curses.

“Are you disappointed I decided to skip the diadem?” Eggsy asked as he tied the bow tie.

Pär, waiting with the jacket, shrugged. “It’s not my place to--”

“Fuck off, I won’t have you executed or some shit for having an opinion.”

“Fine.” Pär smiled. “Yes, I am, but I understand your reasoning. And I got to have a second discussion with you about buttons, so who am I to complain?”

Eggsy giggled, still pleased with himself that Pär really seemed to think he was a tailor.

“Not to mention that your new Kingsman cufflinks are worth it,” Pär added, when Eggsy held out an arm to start putting on the jacket. 

Eggsy’s smile became slightly uncomfortable at the mention of the cufflinks. They were perfectly fine, white gold on a black base, but they, like the fact that someone was dressing him in a haute couture dress, were a symbol of how fucking ridiculously far from his roots he had come. Because these cufflinks were specially made for him, because he’d called up Harry and asked him for it.

Like some posh wanker who thought the world should bend to his every need. 

“How’s that?” asked Pär when he was satisfied with how the jacket sat, taking a step back.

Eggsy straightened the cuffs of his shirt one more time before looking up and meeting his own eyes in the mirror. Like the first time he’d seen himself in this dress he felt in awe, but this time also instantly humbled by the sheer fact that he could do this. He might be turning into a posh wanker, but at least he tried to do something with his new won privilege. That must count for something, right?

He took a deep breath. “I hope I have a thick enough skin for this.”

“You survived the engagement and your first year, I you’ll be fine.” Pär held out his hand. “Let’s take it for a test run.”

Eggsy took his hand as if he was a Victorian lady being helped over a puddle in the street, automatically lifting up the hem with his other hand. Pär led him out of the room and let go when they reached the doors to the drawing room. It all felt really weird, but that was nothing compared to seeing Tilde -- and their entire staff -- standing on the other side,waiting for him.

Tilde smiled, lifting both her hands to her mouth when she saw him. The staff cheered and applauded. Behind him, Pär applauded as well. 

Eggsy let out a nervous laugh. This would definitely be a night to remember.

* * *

As soon as the car door closed behind them, Eggsy let his head tip back against the headrest and closed his eyes. The Nobel Day was one of the most taxing things on his social calendar and this year the anticipation and execution had been worse than ever. The ceremony and dinner itself had passed as they usually did with him feeling out of place and lost, but tonight with the added knowledge that a great part of the focus would be on _him_. Luckily he hadn’t tripped on his skirt once, and he had managed quite well helping his dinner partner -- one of the Nobel laureates in Chemistry, Jennifer Doudna -- to and from the table.

Now, Tilde had handed off her jewellery to the head of the Royal treasury and they were finally on their way home to Haga.

“What’s the verdict?” he muttered when the car drove out from the courtyard of Stockholm City Hall. 

“Fasten your seatbelt,” Tilde told him as she, by the sound of it, went through her handbag in search of her mobile. 

Eggsy made a small noise in protest, but opened his eyes to buckle up. 

“Well?”

“Getting there,” said Tilde. “Where do you want to start?”

“Ebba von Sydow.”

“Fegis.”

He gave her a tired look. Yes, Ebba was always overly positive, but he needed that. Looking at news stories and gossip pages went against everything they normally did, but tonight was different and neither of them wanted to wait for the press office to put together a briefing on this.

“She _adores_ you,” Tilde said with a tender (and relieved) smile, handing the phone over to him.

He took it, his hand a bit unsteady. There’s a picture of him from the prize ceremony, standing as one of the laureates gets their prize. It’s a really good picture. Above it read, “Groundbreaking, tasteful and divine.” and in the body of text she twice referred to him as “our Tailor Prince”.

Faint, he handed the phone back to Tilde. “That’s enough, I don’t have to read anything else now.”

Tilde nodded. She obviously hadn’t had enough, though, because she kept her eyes on the phone the entire way home. Now and then she said things like, “Damernas Värld says you look like a fairy tale.” and “Christer Lindarw has made four instagram posts about you, clearly impressed.”

Everything she said was positive. He couldn’t tell if she left out the bad reviews or if she hadn’t got to them yet, or if the people who would get upset about it hadn’t got to it yet -- that seemed unlikely -- but right now, this was fine. He closed his eyes again and kept them closed until they got back to Haga Palace. 

The driver helped Tilde out of the car, but Eggsy had forgotten that he might need it too now when he had started to relax and stepped out by himself. It worked, but he wasn’t very graceful. Tilde hooked her arm in his as they walked together up the steps to their front door. She took out their key from her handbag and Eggsy punched in the code to the alarm when they stepped inside. It was a relief to come home and finally be just the two of them. 

“I’m really proud of you,” Tilde said quietly. “Tonight took guts.”

“I only dared because you’re here to catch me.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “And I’m not really the brave one.”

“Still can’t take a compliment, hm?” She put her arms around his neck and pulled him close, their dresses rustling between them. “You’re kind and you’re self-less, that makes you brave, not that you went on TV wearing a dress.”

He rested his forehead against hers, about to protest, because he didn’t consider himself brave. Not even when he was in the field, working as a Kingsman agent. He had a job and he did it, most times not realising how scared he was until after the adrenaline subsided. That wasn’t bravery as much as reckless stupidity if you asked him.

This, tonight, might not have been reckless or stupid, but it wasn’t bravery either. It was the job. Being a symbol was the job, setting a good example was the job, trying to change the goddamn fucking norm of masculinity was the job. Somehow.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t coming down from an insane adrenaline high right now.

“Let’s go to bed,” he murmured. 

Tilde kissed him. “No, let’s dance.”

Eggsy chuckled, but wrapped his arms around her waist. She met his eyes and smiled as they slowly started to move, back and forth, their dresses brushing over the floor. 

“It’s late in the evening,” Tilde started to hum, “He's wondering what clothes to wear…”

There would definitely be some kind of fall out from this, perhaps not tomorrow or the day after that, but it would come. Eggsy knew that and he was ready for it. But for now, they just danced, in the safety of their home, as Tilde sang Eric Clapton. 

And Eggsy had to agree, he did feel wonderful tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> Here are some meta notes and reference pictures if you're interested:
> 
> 1) [The two dresses I used for inspiration for Eggsy's dress and the diadem he didn't wear](https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1_5JouMwzbyOt8BAJQturA8meWlVKuXL8?usp=sharing)
> 
> 2) [The dress and diadem Tilde wore to the banquet](https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1IVnNoYR1VKQoLeS84ifLrhJBE1phCvhn?usp=sharing)
> 
> 3) [The other two dresses mentioned](https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1LFDyLyc7fLTOy1AjLvPgbaLNiyosI4vK?usp=sharing)
> 
> 4) The title of the fic is inspired by a line in Alfred Nobel's will.
>
>> All of my remaining realisable assets are to be disbursed as follows: the capital, converted to safe securities by my executors, is to constitute a fund, the interest on which is to be distributed annually as prizes to those who, during the preceding year, have conferred the greatest benefit to humankind.
> 
> or the Swedish original
>
>> Öfver hela min återstående realiserbara förmögenhet förfogas på följande sätt: kapitalet, af utredningsmännen realiserade till säkra värdepapper, skall utgöra en fond, hvars ränta årligen utdelas som prisbelöning åt dem, som under det förlupne året hafva gjort menskligheten den största nytta.
> 
> 5) Pär Engsheden is a Swedish fashion designer who has made a lot of the dresses for the Swedish royal family. He's also the genius behind Sara Danius, former permanent secretary of the Swedish Academy's [pink and orange dress](https://solrosan.tumblr.com/post/628347533506265088/sara-danius-nobel-dresses-from-2015-2016-2017) (which also is mentioned in the fic). Pär, om du läser det här, jag ber om ursäkt. Jag älskar dina klänningar och hann med att se utställningen av Sara Danius klänningar, pandemin till trots! De var fantastiska!
> 
> 6) Ebba von Sydow and Christer Lindarw are also real (igen, jag ber om ursäkt!). von Sydow is a journalist, writer, and TV hoast/presenter, Lindarw is Sweden's most famous drag queen
> 
> 7) Ending with the link to [NobelPrize.org](https://www.nobelprize.org/) because it's worth a visit if you want to find out more, or look at pictures of when the laureates got their medals and diplomas


End file.
